


Be Careful What You Fish For

by Mystradigans



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fish!Lock, Greg is a goldfish, LITERALLY, M/M, No but really he is, Petshop AU, Pining, Sideline Johnlock, They're all fish, mycroft cries, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-12 17:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2118891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystradigans/pseuds/Mystradigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft is a lonely Betta Fish, living under a clay castle in the Tropical Aquarium of Baker St. pet shop. One day, he sees a beautiful goldfish with shiny sliver scales on his head. No really. They're all fish. Seriously. Will Mycroft win over Gregory the Goldfish, or will he be alone forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was brought to you by Emily. The next one will be Nadia's.

In the far right corner of Baker Street Pet Empourium, situated between the "Small Rodents" cage and a large stack of personaliseable dog collars was a large, tropical fish tank. The tank was, at first glance, a rather appealing place to keep fish: the water was a clear blue and the artificial shop lighting made it look as if the sand and all of the fish that swam slightly above the sand were a little bit sparkly and magical. But, deep in the bottom of the tank, there was a dark patch of sand caused by the shadow of the "Please Do Not Feed The Fish" sign and it was in this dark patch that Mycroft Holmes lived.

 

Mycroft Holmes was a green Betta fish, no more than a couple inches long but with a slightly lumpy, misshapen body that seemed too big for his small, wispy fins. Being a Betta fish, he was prone to long periods of depression and he had the same reluctance to eat as the majority of his species. He wasn't a very happy fish at all really; preferring to spend hours on end swimming in dizzying circles pondering the inevitability of death and the failure of almost every other fish he'd had the misfortune to encounter to understand the pain of his existence to partaking in the so-called "games" that aforementioned other fish played for "fun". He was, to his credit, an intelligent fish, if a lonely one. Mycroft's main reason for living was his younger brother Sherlock, a shimmery blue Betta fish who was almost as intelligent as Mycroft but much easier on the eye, and Sherlock needed constant surveillance and protection from his brother to stop him from doing something really stupid. Something like what, if Mycroft's network of reflective shells that he'd set up to allow him to observe his brother at all times were showing what he thought they were showing, Sherlock was about to do.

 

Hastily sliding out from underneath the clay castle where he lived alone, Mycroft swam upwards, out of the shadowy patch of sand to where his younger brother was stood with his boyfriend, a clowning named John Watson, examining the chewed-up remains of what had once been an angelfish and was now perhaps a fish-angel in heaven, depending on whether or not you believed in that sort of thing. But what Sherlock hadn't seen, what Sherlock had of course missed because he was blissfully oblivious to anything that wasn't his case or his boyfriend was a 9 year old girl with her nosed pressed against the glass.

 

"Look at that one!" she exlclaimed to her mother, pointing at Sherlock. "Isn't he pretty! I want that one, Mum!"

 

And suddenly the lid to the aquarium was being opened and hands were reaching inside with a plastic scoop and Mycroft was swimming as fast as he could but he wasn't going to make it- he was too far away and Sherlock still hadn't noticed and- and suddenly a rough voice yelled "SHERLOCK! GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

 

Sherlock looked up to where the voice was coming from and saw the hand and the scoop. His eyes widened and he pulled Jawn out of the line of sight and into the safety of a nearby mass of weeds. The store assistant sighed and asked the girl if she wanted a different fish instead, as this one seemed to be a bit difficult to catch. Another, less fortunate Cichlid was selected and tied into a plastic bag filled with water for the girl to take home. Mycroft felt no remorse for the Cichlid: his sense of responsibility extended only to his brother and now, perhaps John Watson. He decided that he should probably thank the fish who'd warned Sherlock for saving his brother and swam slightly closer with the intention of doing just that.

 

The fish in question had followed Sherlock and John into the weed cluster and his back was turned but Mycroft could tell that he was a goldfish. He was a normal enough goldfish, if admittedly a nicely shaped one, with a streamlined orange body and shiny fins. He was just a few millimetres smaller than Sherlock and maybe half a centimetre larger than Jawn which meant he was almost exactly the same size as Mycroft and by the markings tattooed onto his back, it was clear that he was a member of the Marine Police Force. And then he turned around and Mycroft took a sharp breath in.

 

Above his face, in some kind of bewitching pattern that seemed to forbid Mycroft from looking anywhere other than straight at them, the goldfish's scales were a beautiful, sparkling silver.

 

Mycroft saw the silver and gazed at it, and he wished more than anything that he could get closer and study the silver shells in detail. He gritted his teeth and slowly began to swim towards him, making up his mind to be brave and forget his swollen body and his wispy fins and talk to the fascinating creature who'd saved his brother's life. And for once, he didn't observe, didn't even notice the small boy watching him until the boy turned to him Mum, pointed at Mycroft and said-

 

"Eurghh, look at that one! Gross!"

 

And without hanging around a moment longer, Mycroft turned and swam back to his shadow and his himself under his castle before the beautiful Goldfish with the silvery scales could see him. And Mycroft wished, so much, that his appearance didn't disgust everyone who laid eyes on him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft bumps into the beautiful goldfish at the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was brought to you by Nadia. Well, technically, it was brought to you by me (Emily) because Nadia's on holiday so I'm putting it up, but she wrote it. So, yeah.

Mycroft sat alone with a large glass of seaweed wine; slick, salty tears slowly dripping into his glass, tainting the rich liquid. He didn't care. It would take something a lot stronger than wine to drown his sorrows.

Using his reflective shells, Mycroft had been watching the goldfish with the beautiful silver scales all day and had discovered that his name was Gregory Lestrade, but most people called him Greg (apart from Sherlock who seemed oblivious to everything that didn't concern himself or his beloved Jawn). Mycroft knew that Greg could never be his, the goldfish would never see anything in an ugly, depressed, underfed and antisocial fish like him; this was what he muttered between great shuddering gasps as he tried to stop himself from crying. He failed. Just as he was about pour himself yet another glass of wine, Mycroft heard a harsh knock on his door. Knowing it was only his assitant Anthea, a small, pink fish with little silver fins, he called for her to come in.

"What is it Anthea?" he mumbled. He wasn't in any fit state to do much, but, as always, duty calls. She was cleary out of breath and was shaking all over. Mycroft knew that she never swam, she always paddled; so this must have been very serious. He wiggled out of his pile of sand and paddled over to her, instantly alert. 

"It's Sherlock," she panted. Mycroft could feel his heart rate begin to quicken with panic. What had his silly little brother done now? Anthea continued with haste. "He's at the hospital. He's had an accident. I don't kno-" Without staying to listen to what Anthea had to say, he sprinted out of his door and onto the street, swimming with all his might. He didn't even finish his wine.

 

When Mycroft reached the small hospital in the corner of the fish tanks, it was practically empty. It was the dead of night after all; who else was up at this ungodly hour? Mycroft wished Sherlock had better timing when it came to his crime busting escapades; especially if it landed him hospital. Wondering what Sherlock could possibly have done to himself this time, he paddled up to the reception desk at which sat a very sleepy looking angel fish. He spoke to the young girl. 

"I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes. Could you please direct me to him please?" The angel fish took while to reply, and in that while Mycroft's mind started to imagine all manner of terrible things that could have happened to his dear brother; on the journey he had been too preocupied with finding his way in the dark to worry about Sherlock. Now his paranoid mind was beginning to work at an alarming rate, trying to make up for lost time. He stiffled a cry. 

In his fear he slammed his disproportionate fins onto the desk, making the sleep addled fish jump right out of her droopy scales. 

"Up the stairs and to the left... I think.." she whimpered. Mycroft sped away; swimming up the stairs three at a time. He burst into a small room which was packed with fish. Sherlock was one of them. He had his left arm in a sling and a deep gash running down from his right arm to his shoulder. 

Mycroft breathed a slight sigh of relief. He had seen is brother in worse conditions. Pushing two fish out of the way whom he vaguely recognised as Greg's collueges, Donovan and Anderson, he raced over to Sherlock. 

"Brother dear, are you alright?" Mycroft asked, full of concern. 

Sherlock gave him a very distinct sigh of indignation. "What does it look like Mycroft? But, if it wasn't for John here," he notioned to his partner sitting next to him "I'd be much worse." Sherlock gave up trying to communicate and sank back into his chair. 

Mycroft turned to John who looked as Mycroft felt, anxious, tired and slightly annoyed. The annoyance and axiousness was unanimously directed at Sherlock. 

"What happened John?" Myroft questioned; knowing that the small clownfish was too tired to argue. 

"Well someone," John began, sending a venomous look in Sherlock's direction, but the poison was nowhere near strong enough to kill. "Decided to hide in a patch of coral to wait for the Sea Urchins we suspected responsible for the theft of some jewellery. Unfortunately, they had got there first. And they weren't to happy to see us, I can tell you. One of them took a swipe at Sherlock. I managed to hold him off, but not before he had sustained some injuries; as you may have guessed. By this point Greg Lestrade," Mycroft's previouly cold heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name "Had turned up with Anderson and Donovan. They managed to get them under control and we headed here." John finished. Mycroft now noticed that John was sporting some nasty cuts too, but he seemed to have overlooked them in his haste to make sure his beloved detective was ok. Mycroft was just about to point this out when said detective spoke. 

"Honestly Mycroft, it's nothing. I don't see what all of this fuss is about!"

Three voices started to protest in perfect syncronisation. 

"You could have died Sherlock!"

One of the voices belonged to John. The other belonged to Mycroft. The one remaining came out of the mouth of Greg Lestrade. 

He was standing at the door, slowly turning a darker shade of red than usual as he noticed Mycroft staring open-mouthed at him. Mycroft was blushing too. Too nervous and embarrassed about his apperance to speak, Mycroft muttered something about calling Sherlock later and fled out of the room. In his haste, he accideny caught his fin on one of Greg's silver scales. 

He would feel that shadow of the contact to the end of his days.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Holmes is a lonely Beta fish living in Baker St Aquarium. No. He really is. We're serious. Can he win the heart of Gregory the Goldfish, or will he be alone forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Emily. But posted by Nadia. Because of stuff and no Wi-Fi. I hate no Wi-Fi. Anyway... It's quite long but stick with it! Enjoy!

Anyone who knew Mycroft Holmes well, and his reclusive nature ensured that this number didn't extend beyond Sherlock and Anthea, knew that when he tugged at the handle of his driftwood umbrella, the situation had reached crisis point. It was a nervous tick, and this- this right now, was arguably the most nervous he'd ever been. Mycroft tugged at his umbrella handle.

 

It was a really weak thing to do, really. If this was a political manoeuvre he'd made, the entire pet shop would be thrown into chaos, but here he was, standing outside the cleaners that he'd discovered Gregory frequented during a shameful session of spying on the goldfish through his reflective shell system. He didn't even know what he wanted to happen- well, he knew what he wanted to happen, he'd imagined it several times in his mind, but it was really quite unlikely that Greg would declare his undying love for him when they "coincidentally" bumped into each other in the street- but he knew that he couldn't concentrate on anything other than Greg and he hoped that seeing the object of his new fixation would give him some peace from the constant voice that shouted "GREGORY LESTRADE" inside his head when he tried to sleep.

 

The problem, Mycroft had decided, was that he'd only met Greg once. He only had a very limited amount of data on which to base his impression of Lestrade, and somehow his brain had filled in the gaps- creating a fantasy-Greg so perfect that work related thoughts couldn't compete with him. But this Greg wasn't real, and Mycroft figured that if he spent time with real Greg, his brain would get over this obsession and he could move on. And so, when his longing for Greg had become so overwhelming that he couldn't ignore it for a second, he'd been unable to resist it any longer and had come here.

 

Now though, he was having second thoughts. What was he even going to say if he saw Greg? He considered turning back, only to change his mind again when he remembered that he didn't know when he'd next have an opportunity to see Greg and he couldn't go any longer with these horrible feelings in his gut. He felt sick, both from nerves an end, he suspected, lack of food since he'd been eating even less than usual lately, he was sweating and he knew he must look a mess but he stayed put, squeezing his eyes closed to control his dizziness.

 

"..Mr Holmes?" asked a voice from behind him. He spun around to see none other than Detective Inspector Lestrade looking at him with concern.

 

"Uhhh" he muttered, rendered temporarily unable to form words. "Uhhh"

 

"Are you alright?" asked Greg. His voice was gruff and deep and Mycroft would hear it every night in his dreams for the rest of his life. "Sorry, you probably don't remember me. I'm.. Greg Lestrade. We met briefly about a week ago at the hospital"

 

How could he even suggest that Mycroft didn't remember him? Mycroft had done nothing but remember him since he'd first laid eyes on him!

 

"Mmm.. ummm.."

 

Greg put a fin on Mycroft's forehead (Mycroft shuddering at the touch) and found it to be burning up. "You look like you're having some kind of panic attack! What happened?"

 

"'M Ok" Mycroft finally forced himself to say. He sorted his jaw out and repeated "I'm fine, I mean. It's fine"

 

"Are you sure?" Greg asked, still looking worried. "Look, do you want to sit down? There's a cafe we can go to just on the corner"

 

Mycroft swallowed thickly "I'm really fine." He had managed to make a fool out of himself already, the last thing he needed was to spend more time with Greg.

 

"Mycro- Mr Holmes, I'm sorry but you're really not fine. I'm not about to leave you to faint right here in the middle of the street alone. So we can stand here or we can go to a cafe, it's your choice"

 

"C-cafe then, I suppose" he got out, trying his best not to collapse.

 

Greg lead him to a small cafe, pushing him to sit at a table where a pretty neon tetra waited for their order.

 

"Caffeinated Kelp Juice, full fat with cream please" Greg grinned. "Oh, and do you have any of those seaweed cakes?"

 

She nodded and turned to Mycroft.

 

"Oh, I'm fine thank you" he said politely. "I'm just having, you know,-" he gestured around him- "water".

 

The tetra left to get Lestrade's food and Greg turned to Mycroft and frowned.

 

"You should eat something if you're feeling weak. It'll help, I promise"

 

Mycroft smiled ruefully. "I'm on a diet."

 

"What?" asked Greg in surprise. "Why in tank are you on a diet?"

 

"Well, you know, to lose weight" shrugged Mycroft, blushing. "It's not going very well though"

 

"Lose weight? Mycroft you look fine. You're actually-" now it was Greg's turn to blush- "..very-quite! Quite attractive"

 

Mycroft stared down at his stomach miserably. "That's nice of you to say"

 

"It's true."

 

"B-but I'm not!" Mycroft blurted. "I'm ugly and bloaty and FAT!"

 

And with that he began to cry pitifully, tears running down his cheeks and making him feel weaker than ever. "Why, Greg? Why do I have to be so disgusting?"

 

Greg watched, not trying to stop him, knowing that Mycroft needed to let this out.

 

"You're so beautiful" Mycroft was sobbing. "And look at me! I'm fat and ugly and I'm making a scene in a cafe because I can't stop crying!"

 

After waiting a few minutes for Mycroft to calm down, after which he went silent and stared at the table, Greg cut his seaweed cake in half and slid one half across the table.

 

Mycroft looked at it in longing for a moment (and Poseidon knows it wasn't the only thing he was giving that look to) and reluctantly took a bite of cake. It was good cake but what was better was the way Greg smiled with what looked like genuine joy when he accepted it.

 

"Mr Holmes?" Greg asked finally, breaking the silence.

 

"Mycroft" he corrected automatically.

 

"Mycroft then" said Greg with a grin. "Are you.. Do you want to talk about it?"

 

"I think I already did" he sighed. "I'm so sorry. That was embarrassing. It's just.. I never told anyone before about my insecurities and I didn't realize the process would be quite so upsetting"

 

"Please don't apologize" the goldfish insisted. "Mycroft, it's okay. Everyone can get insecure- shell, I know I do. But please don't starve yourself or let it get to the point where you're almost passing out in the street, because I think you're amazing just the way you are"

 

Mycroft gulped. "Y-you do?"

 

"I really do" said Greg, his brown eyes wide with emotion.

 

"Holy Carp" thought Mycroft, gazing back at him. "I think I might actually be in love"

 

Anyone who knew Mycroft Holmes well, and his reclusive nature ensured that this number didn't extend beyond Sherlock and Anthea, knew that when he tugged at the handle of his driftwood umbrella, the situation had reached crisis point. It was a nervous tick, and this- this right now, was arguably the most nervous he'd ever been. Mycroft tugged at his umbrella handle.

 

It was a really weak thing to do, really. If this was a political manoeuvre he'd made, the entire pet shop would be thrown into chaos, but here he was, standing outside the cleaners that he'd discovered Gregory frequented during a shameful session of spying on the goldfish through his reflective shell system. He didn't even know what he wanted to happen- well, he knew what he wanted to happen, he'd imagined it several times in his mind, but it was really quite unlikely that Greg would declare his undying love for him when they "coincidentally" bumped into each other in the street- but he knew that he couldn't concentrate on anything other than Greg and he hoped that seeing the object of his new fixation would give him some peace from the constant voice that shouted "GREGORY LESTRADE" inside his head when he tried to sleep.

 

The problem, Mycroft had decided, was that he'd only met Greg once. He only had a very limited amount of data on which to base his impression of Lestrade, and somehow his brain had filled in the gaps- creating a fantasy-Greg so perfect that work related thoughts couldn't compete with him. But this Greg wasn't real, and Mycroft figured that if he spent time with real Greg, his brain would get over this obsession and he could move on. And so, when his longing for Greg had become so overwhelming that he couldn't ignore it for a second, he'd been unable to resist it any longer and had come here.

 

Now though, he was having second thoughts. What was he even going to say if he saw Greg? He considered turning back, only to change his mind again when he remembered that he didn't know when he'd next have an opportunity to see Greg and he couldn't go any longer with these horrible feelings in his gut. He felt sick, both from nerves an end, he suspected, lack of food since he'd been eating even less than usual lately, he was sweating and he knew he must look a mess but he stayed put, squeezing his eyes closed to control his dizziness.

 

"..Mr Holmes?" asked a voice from behind him. He spun around to see none other than Detective Inspector Lestrade looking at him with concern.

 

"Uhhh" he muttered, rendered temporarily unable to form words. "Uhhh"

 

"Are you alright?" asked Greg. His voice was gruff and deep and Mycroft would hear it every night in his dreams for the rest of his life. "Sorry, you probably don't remember me. I'm.. Greg Lestrade. We met briefly about a week ago at the hospital"

 

How could he even suggest that Mycroft didn't remember him? Mycroft had done nothing but remember him since he'd first laid eyes on him!

 

"Mmm.. ummm.."

 

Greg put a fin on Mycroft's forehead (Mycroft shuddering at the touch) and found it to be burning up. "You look like you're having some kind of panic attack! What happened?"

 

"'M Ok" Mycroft finally forced himself to say. He sorted his jaw out and repeated "I'm fine, I mean. It's fine"

 

"Are you sure?" Greg asked, still looking worried. "Look, do you want to sit down? There's a cafe we can go to just on the corner"

 

Mycroft swallowed thickly "I'm really fine." He had managed to make a fool out of himself already, the last thing he needed was to spend more time with Greg.

 

"Mycro- Mr Holmes, I'm sorry but you're really not fine. I'm not about to leave you to faint right here in the middle of the street alone. So we can stand here or we can go to a cafe, it's your choice"

 

"C-cafe then, I suppose" he got out, trying his best not to collapse.

 

Greg lead him to a small cafe, pushing him to sit at a table where a pretty neon tetra waited for their order.

 

"Caffeinated Kelp Juice, full fat with cream please" Greg grinned. "Oh, and do you have any of those seaweed cakes?"

 

She nodded and turned to Mycroft.

 

"Oh, I'm fine thank you" he said politely. "I'm just having, you know,-" he gestured around him- "water".

 

The tetra left to get Lestrade's food and Greg turned to Mycroft and frowned.

 

"You should eat something if you're feeling weak. It'll help, I promise"

 

Mycroft smiled ruefully. "I'm on a diet."

 

"What?" asked Greg in surprise. "Why in tank are you on a diet?"

 

"Well, you know, to lose weight" shrugged Mycroft, blushing. "It's not going very well though"

 

"Lose weight? Mycroft you look fine. You're actually-" now it was Greg's turn to blush- "..very-quite! Quite attractive"

 

Mycroft stared down at his stomach miserably. "That's nice of you to say"

 

"It's true."

 

"B-but I'm not!" Mycroft blurted. "I'm ugly and bloaty and FAT!"

 

And with that he began to cry pitifully, tears running down his cheeks and making him feel weaker than ever. "Why, Greg? Why do I have to be so disgusting?"

 

Greg watched, not trying to stop him, knowing that Mycroft needed to let this out.

 

"You're so beautiful" Mycroft was sobbing. "And look at me! I'm fat and ugly and I'm making a scene in a cafe because I can't stop crying!"

 

After waiting a few minutes for Mycroft to calm down, after which he went silent and stared at the table, Greg cut his seaweed cake in half and slid one half across the table.

 

Mycroft looked at it in longing for a moment (and Poseidon knows it wasn't the only thing he was giving that look to) and reluctantly took a bite of cake. It was good cake but what was better was the way Greg smiled with what looked like genuine joy when he accepted it.

 

"Mr Holmes?" Greg asked finally, breaking the silence.

 

"Mycroft" he corrected automatically.

 

"Mycroft then" said Greg with a grin. "Are you.. Do you want to talk about it?"

 

"I think I already did" he sighed. "I'm so sorry. That was embarrassing. It's just.. I never told anyone before about my insecurities and I didn't realize the process would be quite so upsetting"

 

"Please don't apologize" the goldfish insisted. "Mycroft, it's okay. Everyone can get insecure- shell, I know I do. But please don't starve yourself or let it get to the point where you're almost passing out in the street, because I think you're amazing just the way you are"

 

Mycroft gulped. "Y-you do?"

 

"I really do" said Greg, his brown eyes wide with emotion.

 

"Holy Carp" thought Mycroft, gazing back at him. "I think I might actually be in love"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft Homes is a lonely Beta fish living in Baker St. Aquarium. Will he win the heart of Gregory the Goldfish or will he be alone forever? 
> 
> In this chapter Mycroft takes Greg out for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is Nadia again! I wrote this chapter, and surprisingly, no one dies! Lots of fluff in this chapter, but things start to take a turn for the worse next week! In other news, Emily should be posting some Teen!Lock soon, so keep an eye out for that, and I'm working on a bit too. Thankyou!

Electricty frazzled through Mycroft's scales, metaphorically of course, Beta fish and chips is enough to put anyone off mushy peas for life. The only time he had ever been excited before was when he graduated from university, and even then it was mostly nerves. Now though, he was just about to burst; feeling the andrenaline dancing across his chest. He was meeting Greg for dinner at a fancy restraunt owned by a Holmes' family friend and all Mycroft was worried about was eating- eating too much! Since the Kelp And Cake Incident, he'd built up an immence apatite, probably from months, if not years of barely nibbling his food. He felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off his stubby fins: Greg actually liked him and didn't think he was disgustingly ugly and a freak of nature! Yay! Gold Starfish for Greg!

 

Mycroft was there just as the petshop was closing. The restraunt was thankfully empty, but Greg was meant to be there 20 minutes ago. Mycroft was just about to call him, (they excanged conch shell numbers and, like two emotionally unstable (or just plain unstable) teenage girls, they hadn't been off the phone in days) when Holy Carp- Greg positively glided through the doors, causing Mycroft's small mouth to drop in shock. Sherlock would have been in fits of laughter; which was quite something to achieve if you weren't John. In Mycroft's eyes, Greg looked stunning, even more stunning than usual, I might add, as Mycroft always thought Greg looked amazing. The DI was wearing his best grey suit; it matched his scales. Mycroft sat down at his table, oposite Greg, still lost for words. Greg spoke first.

 

"I like your tie!" he blurted out. Mycroft glanced down at it. It had blue umbrellas on it. "Thank you! I hoped you'd like it!" he replied finally finding his voice.

 

"I like all of you. Especially the umbrella tie. Now I'm not really hungry, and I made sure you ate before we came out so ummm... Would you like to dance?" Greg broke the arkward silence, all he could think about was holding Mycroft's gourgeously pale fin. Mycroft almost tripped over the table leg in his haste to get up and dance. "Yes Greg, I'd like that very much, thankyou." He said, regaining his composture while trying to keep the eagerness from his voice. They giggled like the rare Lesser Spotted Fangirl Fish. The lights in pet shop dimmed. Taking Greg's fin, Mycroft switched on the the barely used radio on his phone. They stepped under the single light and the music began:

 

You are my sunshine,  
My only sunshine,  
You make me happy,  
When skies are grey,

You'll never know dear,  
How much I love you

So please don't take my sunshine away.

 

And they kissed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter by Emily. Sorry.

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU FISH FOR- CHAPTER 5

"Bloody Shell!" Greg gasped, gazing at Mycroft's castle. "You live there? It's amazing!"

"Thank you" Mycroft smiled. He had been nervous about Greg seeing his house but he was slowly becoming more comfortable in the relationship- (relationship! They were actual boyfriends now!)- over the month that they'd been dating and gradually starting to come out of his shell.

"You have this whole castle to yourself?"

Mycroft nodded. "Yes. It's not as pleasant as you think, actually. It gets horribly lonely"

Greg frowned. "It does?"

"Sherlock moved out when he was 19, since then it's just been me and on occasion Anthea" explained Mycroft. "I've never.. had a significant other to invite over before"

"Oh, Mycroft" sighed Gregory, gently placing a fin on Mycroft's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for not finding you sooner"

 

Later, Mycroft and Greg sat snuggled on the sofa, sharing a bag of Sea Salted Pebble Crisps. Mycroft was eating more and more with encouragement from his boyfriend and feeling better than he'd ever felt before. He snuggled into Greg's shoulder and Greg kissed him before singing softly- the song they'd danced to the night they started dating.

"You'll never know dear,  
How much I love you.." he hummed, before brushing his cheek against Mycroft's. Mycroft smiled and joined in on the last line.

"Please don't take my sunshine away" they sang together. Mycroft loved the way their voices sounded together. He didn't think he was a good singer, but his voice harmonized with Greg's to make a sweet sounding tune.

There was a moment of silence after they stopped singing- beautiful, intimate silence filled with the couple gazing into each other's eyes, each thinking the same thing: that they never ever wanted to part.

"I-I feel so.." Greg whispered, just as Mycroft cut him off.

"Move in with me."

"What?"

"Come live here. With me. In this house" Mycroft repeated, and Greg beamed.

"I'd really love to"

 

Greg didn't have much stuff he wanted to keep, and it only took a few rounds to bring most of it over to Mycroft's. Sherlock, John and Anthea were helping them to move it and so it was only half an hour until they were all done. Mycroft's castle was now filled with Gregory-things as well as Mycroft-things and it was beautiful- the once clinical hideaway had been turned back into a family home.

"Well, thanks guys!" Greg smiled.

"No problem!" said John. "It's good to see you both so happy, right Sherlock?"

"No it isn't" Sherlock insisted stubbornly, but everyone could tell that he was secretly pleased for his brother.

The fish were stood outside Greg's old home, which was small and right in the open. Mycroft was extremely glad he'd agreed to move in; there was no way he could risk that route for long, especially with the chance that another idiotic kid would laugh at him through the glass. He pulled out a bottle of fancy Alcoholic Crustacean Wine and filled up a glass for each of them.

"I can't believe we're living together!" murmured Greg, kissing Mycroft's fin, el which he.held in his own.

"Me neither" Mycroft told him, causing Anthea and John to 'aww' and Sherlock to 'bleurghhh'.

"To Mycroft and Greg" Anthea announced, toasting them with her glass.

All five gazed up into the sky, where the bright lights of the pet shop wrinkled down at them like stars. And one by one, each of the fish slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

Mycroft awoke to the sound of a woman screaming. He snapped his eyes open to see that Anthea was the one screaming, and that a hand was opening the top of the aquarium. His first instinct was to protect Sherlock- where was his brother?- but Sherlock and John were nowhere to be seen.

The scoop descended into the water and everywhere fish were dashing around in panic, trying to get out of the way.

"Mycroft?" he heard a voice yell. Greg's voice.

Mycroft span on his tail, his eyes widening as he searched the crowd for his boyfriend desperately. He couldn't see Greg amid the fish that swam and he looked round frantically, catching only blurs of colourful fish: purple-yellow-red-green-... silver.

"Greg!" he called, finally locating his silver head.

"Myc!" Greg howled, just before the hand scooped him up.

It all happened too quickly. One moment, Mycroft was swimming towards his boyfriend, the love of his life, the fish that had in a few short weeks singlehandedly rewritten his life story. And the next, Greg was reaching for him from the scoop, even as it was too late; even as his Greg rose further away from him. And then Mycroft watched, horror-stricken, as the beautiful goldfish was dropped into a plastic bag full of water and handed to a snotty-nosed little boy.

And the entire tank heard Mycroft as he pressed himself up against the glass and wailed, begged and pleaded to the boy who couldn't hear him, the boy who was walking away with his Greg.

And everyone heard Mycroft as, with tears running down his face, he offered one final plea to anyone who was listening, his voice shaking and weak on its own.

"Please don't take my sunshine away!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is guys. The end Is nigh.

Three months later

 

Mycroft's castle was empty, everything was gone. Including it's owner. Mcroft Holmes was dead. Of course, Sherlock was devastated; but vowed to keep all the other fish safe, so no one would have to endure the pain his brother did. Mycroft's body had floated to the top of the fish tank a long time ago. One day, he just burried hinself under a pike of sand and didn't come out. Sherlock assumed he had suffacted. He couldn't live without his sunshine. Gradually, he just wasted away, leavinng nothing but his wealth and this:

 

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,

 

I dreamt I held you in my arms,

 

When I woke, dear, I was mistaken,

 

So I hung my head, 

 

And I cried.

 

My dearest Greg,

 

Living without you is

 

Not My Division.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so so sorry. Nadia wrote this by the way. We deserve what we're going to get. We are so so so sorry.


End file.
